For Better And For Worse
by ExLibris3
Summary: Tragedy tore them apart, but will a new tragedy bring them back together? Jibbs.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Just wanted to say that I started this before the season five finale, and it takes place two years later. So, lets assume what happened in Judgment Day never happened. Well, it's Jen and Gibbs, as usual. Their marriage seems to be running out of time, but just what is the underlying issue? And though a tragedy tear them apart, will a new tragedy manage to bring them back together?**

_Prologue_

Small hands sneaked around his waist, he had to struggle to keep the smile off his lips, finding he was desperately unable could stop it, as his wife gently blew a puff of air in his neck. He felt the hair at the back of his neck rise, reveling in the feel of her petite body pressing up behind him. He held his hands still on the tool, not sure if he trusted himself to keep sanding his precious boat with her standing this close behind him, her intentions clear in her every action. He swallowed, hard. It was amazing what she could do to him, just by standing close. Her hands roamed his front, sneaking under his shirt, fingers curling in the hair on his chest. He panted slightly, feeling himself harden as she brought her mouth close to his ear.

"Jethro," she purred. Something had made her very happy, and he suspected it was something other than the obvious power she had over him. He waited for her to continue, knowing there wasn't much time until arousal would take over his mind and pin her against the side of the boat. She kissed his neck.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, smirking as she heard the loud thud of the tool hitting the floor. Next thing he was aware of was a flurry of red hair as she spun around. And then kisses. Heated. Passionate. Loving.

She was happy. He was happy. They were happy. Having kept their relationship hidden for little more than a year, they both figured it was time to tell the world, now that she was pregnant, which would be an issue hard to disguise in the long run.

He kissed her knuckles over his morning coffee, she smiled at her husband over her green tea, her left hand resting protectively over her still flat stomach, the wedding band shone brightly against the black of her shirt, he wore the matching band, showing he belonged to her and she belonged to him.

Though, as things don't always turn out the way you wish them to do, what should have been a day of joy, and a happy announcement, changed in time shorter than a heartbeat. As tragedy overtook them, bringing them down into a pit of blackness, she'd thought they would have fallen together. But his eyes flashed to hers, and then he turned his head away. She turned too.

_To be continued…_

**Please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. Please review!**

_Chapter 1_

_Six months later_

She wrapped her arms around her petite body, hugging the robe tighter around her, trying to hold back a shiver as the cool air from the basement swept up around her bare legs. Her naked feet planted on the top of the rough staircase. A single light shone, illuminating the shell of a boat, and a man crouching at the far end of it. Her eyes registered the half-empty bottle of bourbon standing on the counter, just out of reach, but she had no doubt he could reach it, if he stretched. She was certain it had been at least filled up to three quarters the last time she'd stuck her head in.

She let out an inaudible sigh at the sight of her husband, spending more time working on the boat than he did working on her. The life as a married woman just wasn't at all like what she had imagined; it had all gone so well until that day six months ago. They had been happy, expecting a child. But they weren't anymore. And she would probably never become a mother. She pushed back all thoughts about the child she was supposed to have had. Turning her head back to her husband and wondered if there was any way she could get him to come back to her. She wondered why he wouldn't want to face her, why he had to take his refuge in the darkness of the basement, lurking in the shadows behind his boat. She wondered if he knew she'd spent the last hour in bed, frantically clinging on the small hope left in her body, that he would abandon this darkened place, and join her in bed. She wondered when the last time they'd slept in the same bed had been. She wondered if it was too much to hope for that they would tonight.

He was well aware of her silent company. Wasn't sure if it bothered him or if he should welcome it. He chose the former, as the distance felt too great between them, too big to be fixed by him coming to bed with her, like her silent pleading was indicating. He reached out toward the bottle of bourbon, not caring about the coffee cup next to him that he knew was still half-full. He took a long drink right out of the bottle.

"When are you coming to bed?" her low voice carried through the air thick with sawdust and what used to be heated feelings that were now cooling rapidly. He picked up the brush again.

"Don't know," his voice was raspy, as if he hadn't used it in a while, and also, she suspected, due to having too much to drink.

"Are you _ever_ coming to bed?" her small hands placed on the rail.

"Maybe," he still wasn't looking up at her. Frustration was beginning to tear at her. She took his answer as a no. Wondering why he was so reluctant to share a bed with her, was it really too much to ask for wanting to try and fix their wounded marriage? She thought she'd try an approach that usually would have coaxed him into coming with her; despite that her frequent attempts over the past six months had proven insufficient and futile, she wasn't sure she was ready to give him up.

"I bought a new nightgown," she said, once again pulling the robe tighter around her, shielding the new silk she was wearing underneath. "Thought you might wanna see it,"

"Maybe later," was the reply she received. It wasn't the one she was looking for. She started to feel slightly exasperated, her fingers tenderly playing with the wedding band on her finger. She knew the inscription on its inside by heart, _Yours Forever_. She didn't know how long forever was; right now it seemed to be barely two years. One year and nine months to be exact, since their secret wedding. She was surprised that time had moved so quickly. His wedding vows were still crystal clear in her memory. She wondered if they would even make it to their second anniversary – right now that seemed very far away.

She fought the urge to descend the stair case and remind him of why she wished him to come to bed with her, afraid she'd get pushed away, abandoned for some goddamned boat's sake. Though she knew spending the night together would not make them forget the past, it could be the opening of the door he'd shut himself in behind during these months. That was all she wanted.

She gave up a sad laugh, it echoed like bad lie through the basement. Though it caused him to glance up at her, as if startled to find her still there. She wasn't sure what she should make of that interpretation.

"You're not coming to bed, are you?" she said sadly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Jen…" he began, sounding more exasperated than sorry. That was all she needed to hear.

"Don't," she just said, hot tears burning behind her eyelids, but she pushed them back, not intending on showing vulnerability, not wanting him to come back her just because she was crying.

She shrugged, her eyes stroking the smooth surface of the boat. She turned away, stopping in the doorway to glance back at him. She gave him a piece of her mind before she walked out.

"You care more about that boat, and your bourbon, than you care about me,"

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and interest! Here's a new chapter! Please review!**_

_Chapter 2_

The grey morning light filtered in through the blinds, dispelling the darkness of the bedroom. A pale sunray lay across Jen's face, she sleepily turned around in bed, eyes still closed as she instinctively threw her arm out across the bed, her sleepy mind expecting to find a warm body. She found none.

She groaned, blinking her eyes open, her eyes staring expressionlessly at her husband's side of the bed. It was untouched.

She rolled over onto her back, staring up into the ceiling as she blinked away the tears. A headache pounded at the back of her head, ruthlessly reminding her of the bottle of bourbon she'd snatched from the liquor cabinet before she went to bed last night. It now stood half empty on her bedside table. She wondered briefly what it meant that both parts in their marriage were taking their refuge in alcohol. She stopped thinking as she realized it was a bad omen. Really bad.

After a shower and a couple of aspirins, she entered the kitchen. The sun had risen over the treetops by now, a warm orange light filtered through the curtains. She wasn't surprised to find the kitchen table empty, nor to find fresh coffee in the brewer. Though she hadn't expected an empty cup to stand on the counter next to it, clearly meant for her. Well, at least he'd been a little bit considerate to her today, she thought bitterly as she poured herself a cup of the hot bitterness. It eased her hangover the tiniest bit. She left the rest of the healing to the aspirins.

She tried hard to not look at the kitchen table where she stood leaning against the counter, sipping her coffee and staring stubbornly out the window. Or trying not to think about the living room couch, or the bedroom. Or simply any other place where they had had sex. She didn't deny that she missed him. Not just missing making love to him, but missing having him upstairs, having him in the same room, and not hiding in the shadows behind a half-finished boat whenever she tried to reach out. The Gods should know, she'd give anything to just go back to the old days, when she'd sit in the couch, legs folded and looking down at her husband's head resting in her lap, slowly stroking his hair, he'd catch her hand and place kisses on her palm and down her wrist. God how she used to love that. But the feeling of his cool lips on her skin felt as distant as last year's summer heat.

She wrapped her arms around her petite body, trying to give herself some comfort, but knowing she needed him to ever be healed.

She went to the door leading down to the basement, not looking down, but calling out to him her driver was there to pick her up. His muffled reply reached her; she didn't bother to listen, already knowing he'd said he'd be coming in to work shortly. She'd been in enough of these mornings already.

Sometimes she wondered why he wasn't inclined to wanting to feel happy, why he wasn't talking to her, why he didn't wanna help her fix this. He had a wife upstairs who was waiting for him. One thing he should know, and that was that she wouldn't wait forever.

She spent the ride to the office staring out the window, though she was not paying any attention to the beautiful spring day. Her mind was far back in the past, reminiscing all the moments she'd loved about their marriage. They'd finally stopped pretending, some time after la Grenouille's body had been found, after the secrets of her past had been revealed, and she felt ready to let him deeper in.

He had come by her house late one evening, claiming he had a report she needed to sign. Thing was, he was not carrying a file with him. Must have forgotten it in the car, he claimed. Adding he would go fetch it. For some reason she'd offered him bourbon, he'd gladly accepted.

She'd smiled as he'd taken the glass from her hand, the moment his fingers brushed hers, she'd suddenly remembered all the things she'd spent nine years trying to forget. She found the memories were still clear, perhaps a little bit too clear, but that hadn't meant she protested when he'd hoisted her up in his arms, not making it further than to the couch in her study before collapsing, their laughs mingled together. They had stilled for a moment, time had stopped as she'd felt his heart racing against her chest. He'd leant down to kiss her; she'd greedily responded and let the magic of the moment intoxicate her.

"Director?" the voice of her driver interrupted her in her thoughts. Still staring expressionlessly out the window, she replied.

"What?"

"We're here," he said patiently. She roused, blinked a few times and realized she was indeed looking up at the NCIS building. Without a word, she exited the car, slammed the door behind her and hurried into the building; her hand gripping so hard around the strap of her bag her knuckles went white. She entered the elevator, flipped the emergency switch. Tears beaded up in her eyes. Her fingers stroked the rail. She was pretty goddamn certain his outrageous behavior dated back to six months ago, that was when he'd shut her out, when she'd needed him the most, and he'd needed her, he'd chosen to escape. Alone.

This had been going on for too long. Trapped in the darkness, she let her mind drift back to six months ago.

"_Jethro," she breathed. He knelt above her, his face drifting in and out of focus. In the background she could make out the shape of a boat. She noted she was lying on the basement floor. Wondering how she'd ended up here. Wondering why she was feeling so bad. Something was not right, she could tell as a wave of nausea washed over her, along with the bitter taste of blood in her mouth…_

She snapped from the memory as her cell phone rang. She checked the number on the caller id. Cynthia. She sighed, she was professional, she was at work. She couldn't let her personal problems interfere with her professional duties. She answered the call, wiping the single tear that had fallen off her check and hit the power switch again.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! The flashback from the last chapter is continuing in the parts that are in italics.**

_Chapter 3_

"_Jethro, what happened?" she asked, confusion written all over her face, looking up into her husband's worried face._

"_You tripped, and fell down the stairs," he replied, his voice soft, too soft. It worried her. And so did the look in his pale blue eyes…_

"Director?" Jen looked up from her computer; her tired eyes found Ducky standing in the doorway. She managed to force a tired smile and reached to take off her glasses.

"Dr Mallard, what can I help you with?" she asked as politely as she could, her mind still partly trapped in the past.

"I just thought you should know I just treated your husband," he said, his hand resting lightly on the door handle. Ducky had been the witness at their wedding, and he was also the only one who knew about her and Jethro. She felt her heart sink in her chest at his words.

"What has he gotten himself into now?" she sighed and glanced at the watch, it wasn't even noon.

"He apparently cut himself on one of his tools this morning; he has a nasty looking cut on his left hand. Ziva forced him to come see me," he explained, watching her curiously over the brim of his glasses. Jen's tongue darted out, licked her lips quickly before turning her attention back to Ducky, who was watching her with an intensity she did not like.

"He seemed quite… agitated," he hesitantly began, as though not sure how to approach the matter he wanted to discuss, as he was pretty certain what reaction he'd get from her.

"Really," Jen just said, leaned back and collected her hair up in a ponytail.

"And he seemed rather reluctant to let you know about his little…" he waved his hand, trying to find the appropriate word, "Incident,"

"He did now?" she barely moved a muscle, not as much as raising one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Yes, tell me, Jennifer," he said, placing both hands on her desk and leaned closer, staring deeply into her eyes and she got an unnerving feeling he could see right through the façade she'd build up to shield her broken heart. It felt as though he knew it all, knew about the misfortune that had struck them earlier in their marriage, knew about the way her husband hid from her in the shadows, knew about the look he'd give her, the look full of blame.

"Are you and Jethro having problems? Marital problems?" his voice was low as he asked, as if he was half-expecting the walls to have ears. She looked down for a brief second, then back up into Ducky's eyes. She was well-trained in forcing smiles that almost looked authentic.

"We're fine, Ducky. Thanks for your concern, but we're just fine," she was well aware of how strained her voice sounded. The eye twitched. Ducky opened his mouth to speak, just then, her phone rang. Ducky gave a brief nod to tell her to answer, not that she really needed his encouragement to dodge being interrogated, he bid her good day, and then he left, gently closing the door behind him. She stared at where he'd just been standing, until the sharp ring of the phone brought her back to reality. She sighed, and went back to work by answering.

The day passed by without further incident, as far as she knew, her husband managed to stay healthy throughout the rest of the day. Though his team didn't go without harm. Tony came up to talk to her, for the second time in two weeks, and perhaps the tenth time in six months, about Gibbs' unusually rude behavior. She'd listened politely, claimed to know nothing about the cause, but yes, promising to have a talk with him. But though she was well aware of why, she could not talk to him, every time she tried, he either went angry or disappeared without a word, she'd hear a loud thump coming from the basement, wondering what he had slammed his fist against this time. She also figured their household had consumed more bourbon just in these six months, than was probably good for them.

Around seven, she was still slumped back in her chair. She took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes, it was time to go home. Not something she was looking forward to. She turned off her computer, but remained sitting in her chair. Her eyelids slowly dropped, God she was tired…

_Something felt wrong. Really, really wrong. Her hand gripped at her stomach, looking up at her husband's worried face with fear written all over her pale features._

"_Jethro, I think something's wrong with the baby…" she gasped as another wave of pain flooded through her body. She heard her husband's distant voice calling out something, she couldn't hear what exactly. Then strong arms scooped her up…_

She woke with a gasp, her fingers clutching the arms of the chair compulsively. She panted, placed a hand to her forehead and found she was perspiring. She got suddenly aware of a presence, and her eyes shot up toward the door. Her driver stood there, watching her with concern in his eyes. She carefully avoided meeting his eyes as she went to retrieve her coat, knowing all too well he was here to pick her up, and take her home.

She dreaded coming home, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling worried. This had gone way too far, she realized. When he was loosing his control and causing himself physical damage, plus about to give his team some psychological damages, she knew this had escalated to a level it never should have reached.

She knew the talk would have to come, sooner or later. She figured sooner sounded much better, to prevent more people getting hurt. This was about the two of them, and she wasn't sure where an honest conversation would lead. Was he already too far away from her to ever be found again? Did he even want her to find him? Her forehead rested against the cool window of the car, tears running in silent streams down her cheeks.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

_She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, feeling the tears trickle down her cheeks. The pain was overwhelming, and she wouldn't be surprised if she passed out soon. Her husband drove with the speed of light to the nearest hospital, his face was strained, and his hands holding so tightly around the wheel his knuckles were white. He kept whispering, over and over again, assuring her that everything would be fine…_

She wasn't surprised to find his car in the driveway, just like she wasn't surprised to find the house in darkness, wasn't surprised to find a small streak of light coming from the glimpse in the basement door. She sighed, placed her briefcase on the counter in the foyer, her whole body itching to go down to him, to hold him again. But she knew that if she went down there, it wouldn't be to hold him.

She turned on the lights in the kitchen, deciding she should get something to eat. Briefly wondered if her husband had had any dinner. She considered for a second, then deciding she should go ask him. She never made it further than to the doorway, when she turned around the doorpost she found herself walking straight into a firm chest. Her hands instinctively reached out, they landed on her husband's hips. He cleared his throat, slightly awkwardly, and she found herself staring up into his pale blue eyes, wondering how the hell she could have forgotten about the intensity they possessed.

He gently placed his hands over hers, for a second she thought he was going to hold onto them, but barely had she considered the thought, before he released them, removing them off his body.

"Hey," he acknowledged her, passing her by into the kitchen. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and followed him back in. He was making coffee.

She crossed her arms across her chest, studied his back as she leaned against the counter, she noticed the band-aid wrapped around his hand. She figured that would be a good enough reason to start a conversation.

"Ducky told me what happened to your hand," she said, he twitched only the slightest upon hearing her voice, but he pretended it never happened, but she noticed.

"Are you ok?"

"Fine, Jen," he mumbled, still with his back to her. She wondered what it would take to get him to turn around to face her. She made a daring move, and walked up beside him.

"Let me see," she demanded, and before he could protest, she took his hand in both of hers. He didn't withdraw. It encouraged her.

She gently lifted the band-aid, and winced sympathetically at the sight of his wound. He withdrew.

"It's nothing," he claimed, silently willing the coffee brewer to go faster. His wife drew a raspy breath beside him.

"Jethro," her voice was low, almost pleading. "Jethro we have to talk about this…" she trailed off. He remained silent, staring at the coffee slowly dripping. Too slowly.

"It's been, what, six months?" she continued, knowing all too well just how much time had gone, but willing him to answer her. Just say something. He didn't.

"Jethro," there was crying in her voice now, and he winced involuntarily at the sound. He would never admit it, but it cut through his heart like a combat knife.

"Jethro please," her small hand slipped into his, surprising him so much, he flinched, and withdrew. It devastated her.

"Why won't you look at me?" she sobbed, giving up on trying touching him, even though she needed his touch, maybe more than ever.

He shrugged.

"I can't. Not without…remembering," he cut himself off abruptly, as though catching himself saying too much. They stood in silence, next to each other at the kitchen counter. Not looking at each other, but both thinking about the same thing, the same day. The day when darkness had taken over their lives.

"_Mrs. Gibbs?" the nurse approached, hesitantly. Jen laid in a hospital bed, her husband sitting by her side, clutching her hand in his._

"_Yes?" she said, not bothering to correct the nurse that she hadn't taken her husband's last name, yet._

"_It pains me to have to tell you, that your baby didn't survive your fall down the stairs. I'm very sorry, but we can't find any heartbeats," the nurse gripped Jen's arm sympathetically; she shrugged free from it, her eyes staring expressionlessly out into space._

"_I'm going to leave you two alone," she whispered, and silently left the room._

_Jen clutched Gibbs' hand hard, not daring to look at him, not daring to breathe. She felt like she was falling, falling fast into a pit of blackness. She thought her husband was with her, she was roused when she no longer felt his hand in hers. She looked up into his face._

_Their eyes met, and held. She wasn't sure she could accurately describe the pain she saw in the bright blue. He held her gaze for a moment. It held a blame she couldn't quite understand. Then he turned away from her. Tears beaded up in her eyes, she flipped her head to the side, away from him. They fell separately._

They found they were still trapped in the same hole of blackness, neither having any idea of how to get out of it. She thought they should talk about it. He chose to hide from it.

"Talk to me" she whispered, still not looking at him. He opened the cabinet above his head and took out a coffee mug. He poured the freshly brewed coffee into it.

"Talking won't solve anything," he said, his voice raspy, and she got the impression he too was on the verge of tears. He stared down into the hot dark liquid.

"Then what will?" her voice was still low, she involuntarily let an almost inaudible sob escape her.

"I don't know, Jen," he turned his back to her, his knuckles white from the compulsive grip he had on the cup.

"Jethro," she whispered, watching him emerge from the kitchen. "Please…" she knew there was no use, knowing he wouldn't come back.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her body, trying to give herself some comfort. Also trying to prevent herself from knocking down everything standing on the counter. Tears ran in streams down her pale cheeks. If talking didn't help, then what the hell would? In her heart, she knew she had to find a way to fix this, knowing if she didn't both her and he would break apart, and perhaps never finding their way home.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. And please don't kill me.**_

_Chapter 5_

It wasn't until she crawled into bed she realized she hadn't eaten anything since the chicken salad she'd hurriedly forced down between meetings around noon. But as she turned out the lights, she came to the conclusion she had no appetite, and let it go. This night, she rolled over to her husband's side, for the first time in months, buried her face in his pillow, but found it no longer carried the smell of his after shave; so long it had been since he'd last slept there.

She let her tears stain his sheets. It was impossible to keep them from falling. Not that she tried hard to stop them, knowing it was to no use. They would fall anyway.

For Jen, it was a sleepless night. She writhed about in the bed, moved from his side back to hers, and then rolled over to his again, not able to find rest. Her tears kept falling, until she was certain she didn't have any tears left to cry. She thought she might have finally fallen asleep, but stirred not long after by the sharp sound of her alarm clock. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't tired. Not yet, at least.

She found she was lying in Gibbs' side of the bed, awkwardly rose to her feet, the floor felt cold. The whole bedroom felt cold. With her arms clutched around her petite body, she made her way into the bathroom for a hot shower. The rain was pouring outside, the sky a dark shade of grey and the weather seemed to reflect her feelings perfectly. The low rumble of thunder echoed through the house.

When showered and dressed, Jen made her way down the stairs, this morning finding no empty coffee cup waiting for her by the brewer. She took a clean one from the dishwasher, but when she poured the dark liquid into it, she realized it was cold; it was the coffee Gibbs had made last night. She found it strange that he hadn't made any yet.

But knowing she'd probably not survive the day without caffeine, she made some herself.

While sipping the strong brew and quickly skimming through the morning paper, her husband finally made it up from the basement. And judging by the shadows under his eyes, he hadn't had much sleep this night either, or in many nights, she figured as she studied his face over the brim of her cup as he poured himself one. He groaned as the caffeine washed though his system.

It took her several tries to force the words over her lips.

"I still think we should talk about this. We need to talk about this," she noticed how hoarse her voice sounded, most likely due to lack of sleep.

He remained silent, sipping his coffee. Then he shrugged.

"I don't wanna talk," he finally said. That became her final drop.

"Fine," she hissed angrily, rising so abruptly she almost knocked over her cup. "Fine, we don't have to fix this. Just because you're burying your sorrows in alcohol and keeping yourself occupied with that goddamn boat doesn't mean reality will stay away for good, Jethro. It will catch up with you eventually, then you'll wish you never pushed me away," she paused to take a deep breath before continuing, her voice growing angrier and angrier with every word.

"As you might not have noticed, this involves me as well. _I _was the one loosing the baby, Jethro. _I_ am the one that should be hurting the most. And you're the one who should be comforting me," she practically yelled, and kept going before he had the chance to say anything. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you? You wouldn't know what I have gone through these past six months, because you haven't been here, Jethro. I'm sick of being alone, but if you refuse to talk this through, refuse to even try and fix this, then I don't think I can do this," her voice softened toward the end, her gaze ever so fixed on him. He was the one to look away.

Minutes. Hours. An eternity.

"You asking for a divorce?" he finally spoke, voice low, staring into his coffee. Not denying anything she had said.

"I guess I am. It would be best, for both of us. You get to spend your time with your boat, and I get a fresh start. I think that sounds like a pretty fair deal," she spat, when walking from the table she accidentally knocked over her coffee cup. She stopped for a brief moment to watch the hot liquid being soaked up by the newspaper, a fine stream trickling down onto the floor. One last glance at her husband, then she was gone.


	7. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! This chapter is short, and I don't think any of you have anticipated the turn it's taking. I think some of you might be shocked, but I ask you to not jump to conclusions. The next chapter will be up shortly, I promise. Thanks for reading, and please review. **_

_Chapter 6_

It was late in the afternoon, and there weren't words to describe how badly Gibbs' wished to leave the office. He'd spent the better part of the day thinking about the conversation between him and his wife this morning. The look she had given him was still clear in his view, the pain in her voice still fresh in his memory. Maybe he'd pick up on that offer to have a talk, after all, was he really to let her go? But was he really ready to bring up the pain he'd spent six months trying to bury? He was confused. Torn. Willing things could just go back to the way they had been, before they had lost the baby. He'd made her believe he was blaming this on her, while in fact, he wasn't.

But would he be able to live without her?

That was the question he asked himself all the way up to her office, clutching a report in his hand. He suddenly remembered he hadn't seen her all day; though he wasn't that surprised, he remembered days back when their marriage was happy when he wouldn't see her the entire day. Those days she had been stuck in MTAC. Those days he had missed her like hell.

He gave no thought to the unnerving gut feeling he'd had all day.

Tony frowned, watching Gibbs ascend the stairs up to the director's office.

"You think he knows?" he asked Ziva, who was perched on the edge of his desk.

"I think so, he's been grumpy all day," she replied, following Gibbs with her eyes. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"You mean, grumpier than he's been in the last six months?" he said skeptically.

Ziva thought for a moment.

"Yes, I think so. Something was clearly bothering him today," she exclaimed. Though they both were unknowing about the marriage, they still knew Gibbs cared about the director. And since it seemed like the entire agency was well aware of the latest news, they had no reason to believe Gibbs didn't know.

Gibbs burst in through Cynthia's door, making the young woman look up from her computer in surprise. A napkin lay on her desk, the edges of her eyes were slightly red, as though she'd been crying, or was very tired.

"She in?" he asked, pointing at the director's door, never stopped walking toward it. Cynthia creased her forehead.

"No…" her voice quivered slightly.

Gibbs felt his gut turn, knowing something had been lurking under the surface all day, but he hadn't bothered about it much all day. But now, it hit him. He felt it so strongly. Something was wrong with his wife.

"Cynthia, what's happened to her?" he placed both hands on her desk, leaned closer. She drew back, picked up the napkin and blew her nose.

"You haven't heard? The entire agency is talking about it…" she twisted the napkin nervously between her small fingers.

"No I haven't!" he almost yelled. "Now tell me what the hell has happened to her!"

Cynthia stared up into his eyes. He backed away from her desk, horror written all over his face as she spoke.

"Director Shepard was shot this morning,"

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I promised a quick update. Thanks for all the reviews and interest in my story! Hope you'll like this new chapter. Please review!**

_Chapter 7_

He left the office without a word. Descended the stairs. Gaze fixed on something far away. Entered the men's room. Splashed water in his face. Gripped around the edges of the basin until his knuckles whitened. A low wailing sound of agony came from his mouth.

He lifted his head, fixed his eyes on the ones looking back at him from the mirror. Water trickled down his face, he wasn't sure if there were tears among them. There might as well be, because his feelings were in a mess on the inside. How could he not have known? How could he not have heard anything, like Cynthia said, the entire agency must be talking about it. And it was his wife, damnit! He slammed his fist in the wall.

A thousand questions went through his mind. Should he go to the hospital? Was she unconscious? What had really happened? Had they caught the son of a bitch who had shot her? Was she even alive?

The last question made his stomach turn, he felt like he wanted to throw up. He realized he hadn't asked Cynthia anything, anything about his wife's condition. What hospital? When had this happened? And why, why, why?!

He realized he could probably ask every agent in this building, and they would be able to tell him. He was a failure as a husband. The light reflected in his wedding band, he fought the urge to throw it down the drain.

But his need to find out what happened took over, and he decided to go to the only person who he knew he could trust, the only one who knew about him and Jen.

But Ducky wasn't down in autopsy. And neither was Palmer. Slightly frustrated, he stopped by in Abby's lab, where he did find the assistant, but no chief medical examiner. After barking out his question about Ducky's whereabouts, a slightly shaken-up Palmer told him he was at the hospital with Director Shepard. Bethesda. He rushed to the elevator before Abby could grab his arm and get him to talk.

He gave no thought about traffic as he crossed between the cars on the highway, not caring a bit they were honking at him. He figured if she was dead, he might as well die with her. He wasn't sure what made him think like that. No one had told him she was dead, just like no one had told him is she was alive. He was pissed. Wiped away angry tears with the back of his hand as he pressed his foot down harder. The engine roared.

Somehow, God only knew why, he managed to arrive at Bethesda Naval Hospital without having caused any bodily or material injuries.

Bursting through the doors, the nurse at the station looked up in surprise. Watching him approach, his expression strained, he was aware of the remnants of crying on his cheeks.

"Can I help you, Mr.…" she trailed off, raising an eyebrow and waiting to hear a name.

"Gibbs," he replied hastily, not caring about being "Special Agent Gibbs" right now.

"Mr. Gibbs," she said, "What can I do for you?"

"I need the condition of NCIS Director Jennifer Shepard," he struggled to keep his voice steady, struggling trying to sound so formal about his wife. He really just wanted to yell at the nurse and shake her until she told him that his wife would be alright. But he didn't. He couldn't.

She typed something on her computer.

"She's still in surgery…" she began.

"Condition?" he snapped.

"Critical,"

Damn.

"Do you work for NCIS?" she asked him. He grunted and brought out his badge and identification.

"Special Agent Gibbs," she read off the id. She smiled a reassuring smile.

"Your director will probably be ok," she said. Something inside him snapped.

"I don't wanna hear she 'will probably' be ok! I wanna hear that my wife is going to survive!" he shouted, slamming his fist onto the counter, oblivious to the looks he received from the surrounding people.

"Your wife?" the nurse asked, slightly shaken up after his sudden outburst.

He glared at her, panting. His fist furled and unfurled, his mouth opening but no words came over his lips.

She felt it would probably be best to take charge in the situation, and she asked the poor man to, please, take a seat and we'll keep you updated on your wife's condition.

Mutely, Gibbs reluctantly nodded his head, closed his eyes briefly and walked back to the chairs lined up at the wall in the waiting area. He leaned his head against the cool wall, eyes closed, inhaling the sterile hospital smell that made his stomach turn. He suddenly realized something, and his head shot up in the direction of the reception.

"Hey," he called out to the nurse, who looked up, slightly startled.

"Where's Doctor Mallard? I was told he came here with my… the director," he swallowed before changing his definition of Jen.

"He's in the waiting room outside surgery," she replied immediately.

Gibbs rose from his seat.

"Where?" his voice was low, but demanding.

"Down the hallway, to your right," she gave in, finding no sense in restraining him. He gave her a short nod before walking as though in trance down the hallway she'd pointed out.

He found Ducky in a chair outside surgery, legs crossed and a steaming cup of tea before him on the coffee table. He looked up upon hearing someone approach, eyes finding Gibbs with a blank expression on his face.

"Jethro," he greeted, attempting a smile but the look in Gibbs eyes told him the effort was worthless. He sank down in the chair opposite of Ducky.

Silence stretched between the two friends until the extent when it was almost unbearable. Gibbs was the one to break it.

"I didn't know," he said, eyes fixed upon his hands in his lap. His voice startled Ducky. It held the sharpness of pain and the softness of his love for her, yet it was neither of that. He was unable to place it, too many emotions involved and Ducky was pretty sure it was eating him up on the inside.

"Know what?" Ducky reached for his tea cup, studying Gibbs carefully over the brim of his glasses.

"That she had been shot," his face screwed up for a brief moment, then straightening out again, as though realizing something. Then it was blank again, his eyes refusing to meet those of Ducky.

"You couldn't have known," Ducky tried to assure him. It was grave mistake.

Gibbs' head shot up, his eyes flared up.

"That's just it, Duck. I _should _have known. I should have been with her. I should have known something was wrong," the tone in his voice was now unmistakable. It was dripping with the acidity of regret and the heat of anger. He turned his head away as he recalled the morning's conversation. She'd asked for a divorce. Or had she? Had it really been him forcing the divorce upon them? Was that what she truly wanted, or had she just agreed because she thought that was what he wanted? Was it? Or what was it that he truly desired?

He felt Ducky's piercing gaze rake over his features. The feeling that his elderly friend knew more than he probably should grew stronger with each second that passed. He avoided the knowing gaze, not needing to see the compassion he knew was there. Much like it felt that Ducky knew his secrets, he didn't. And he would not be proud to know what he had done to Jen. Not the betrayal.

He rose from his seat, not standing to just sit there passively feeling useless. He began pacing the waiting area impatiently. Sighing. Closing his hands. Glancing toward the door every fifth second. What was taking so long?

"They caught him short after," Ducky said. Gibbs kept pacing. Not looking at him. But he listened to every word. And Ducky knew that.

"He is the brother of a marine who got caught by NCIS for illegal drug possession. He fired at the director's car to revenge his brother," Ducky shook his head. "There was nothing you could have done Jethro,"

Gibbs didn't reply. He kept pacing the small waiting area. They fell into silence.

He tried to shake Ducky's eyes off him, but felt them following him across the room. Finally, he could no longer stand it. Irritated, he turned toward his old friend.

"Something you wanna ask me?"

Ducky held his gaze.

"What's wrong with you and Jenny?" he asked after a short pause. Gibbs swallowed, licked his lips. His gaze swept the decorations on the wall, finding their way back to Ducky. He knew it would be to no use dismissing the question with a simple no.

He shrugged.

"It's just been a little…rough, these past few months," he drew his hand across his forehead.

"What happened?" Ducky asked, leaning forward, studying him with his most piercing gaze. If Gibbs hadn't known it before, it struck him now that Ducky was one of few people that could get him to spill his guts. He gave in. Finally realizing talking was necessary to get them back on track again. He'd never bothered with words before, they weren't his strong side. But if he wanted Jen back in his life, which he did more than anything, he realized now that she was slipping away from him, he needed to face their problems and be ready to be there to try and solve them.

He returned to his seat opposite Ducky. But just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, the door he'd been watching earlier burst open. His head shot up, eyes finding a doctor emerging from the surgery.

His heart was racing, the blood pulsing so loudly through his veins he wasn't sure he would hear what the doctor was saying. He failed in his attempt at forming words, and watched in agonized suspense how Ducky took over the situation as he rose to his feet and approached the doctor. Gibbs seemed to be rooted to the chair.

"How is she doing, Dr?" he heard Ducky ask, his voice low, but loud enough that he could hear him.

"Stable, but still in critical condition. But I believe she will be fine," the doctor made a small smile.

Gibbs' head dropped down into his hands, eyes closed and not able to express how glad he was to hear this. The doctor raised one eyebrow and glanced from Gibbs to Ducky.

"He is Director Shepard's husband, Jethro Gibbs" he explained. The doctor nodded in understanding, then turned toward Gibbs.

"Well, Mr. Gibbs, I'll personally let you know when you're allowed to see your wife," the doctor said politely, feeling for the poor man as he understood what hell he must have gone through, his wife had lost much blood, and the wound would have been fatal if she hadn't been brought in so quickly.

Gibbs stared at him dumbfoundely for a few seconds, before the words sunk in and he leaned back against the wall, eyes closed and a sigh escaped him.

**To be continued…**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thansk for the reviews! So here's the next chapter, I hope you'll like it. I have planned two more chapters + an epilogue. Please review!**

_Chapter 8_

She drifted in and out of consciousness, catching glimpses of her surroundings the few moments she was awake, either passing out from pain or the medications she was constantly given to ease the blinding pain roaring through her body.

She was always grateful when darkness swept over her again; numbing the pain sometimes so fierce she couldn't breathe, sending ripples of crimson across her vision before darkness swallowed her with its soothing coolness.

But one time when she stirred, she did not wish to return to the black stillness. When her eyes opened that time, her vision, edged by red, found her husband sitting by her side, head in hands and she hadn't been able to determine whether or not he was crying, before sleep took over once again.

The next time she woke, she managed to hold on, drawing a careful breath only to have the area around her stomach blaze as though a knife was ruthlessly thrust in. She gasped, causing the person standing by the window to sharply turn around. The next second, she felt a hand in hers and she was looking up into her husband's face, while a doctor came running to her side but she took little notice in him as he made sure she was doing fine. Her eyes held those of her husband. The doctor withdrew, assuring her she was fine, and allowing her some alone time with her husband.

Her mind was clearing up, and she could finally focus on something other than the pain as the medications rushed through her system. She avoided looking at him, carefully taking a light breath, the pain felt lessened as she did so and for that she was grateful.

"Water?" her husband asked carefully. She attempted to nod, but found her neck too stiff and had to force a weak "Yes," out through her dry lips. She leaned back against the pillows as she heard him tap up water into a glass. With her eyes half-closed, she could make out his shape as he stood by the counter. She blinked once, twice. There was something about him that seemed out of order. And not just the fact that he was still dressed in the same clothes he had worn the day she'd been shot, or the trash can filled with empty coffee cups that had kept him awake throughout the nights, creating black rings under his eyes from lack of sleep. His movements were stiff and jerky and he seemed tense. She flinched involuntarily as the sharp crash indicated he'd dropped the glass.

He drew heavy breaths, hands placed on the counter and his head was titled downwards. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was crying. But as the sound of quiet sobbing broke the silence of the room, it cut through her like a pain far worse than the one caused by the bullet. She felt like she wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say, or if she even could muster up the strength to speak at all. Her throat felt dried up and lips swollen.

"Jethro," she croaked, though the effort was unnecessary as he had managed to pour her a glass of water on his second attempt. His eyes never met hers as he help her sit up, his hands on her shy but demanding as he helped her tip the glass slowly to let her drink. She heard the low clink of it being put back onto the table as her eyelids closed. Her husband didn't make much sounds, she heard his footsteps as he paced alongside her bed, seeing in her head what he would look like, how he would rub his forehead and run a hand through his hair. She opened her eyes to a vision she was not familiar with. Though his hair indeed looked like a hand had rushed through it several times, the tear-streamed face seemed very strange to her, and did not remind her of her husband at all.

He drew his fingers through his hair again, slumped down in the chair beside her bed and looked so miserable she had to fight the urge to pull him into a hug, knowing she would probably scream out loud if she tried to move.

He jerked a little when noticing she was watching him from under heavy eyelids, he looked away, but was unable to keep his gaze from striding back to her the next moment. She saw his jaw muscles ripple, as though he was fighting the urge to say something, anything at all. He blinked, and she was struck with the sense he was blinking away more tears.

Why couldn't he say something? Even though her mind was a little fuzzy after all the medications and the shooting, she still remembered what had happened between them. She wasn't sure if the divorce was still on, but for as long as he refused to talk to her, she didn't know how to interpret his silence.

"I've never been so scared in my life," her gaze shot up as his quiet voice broke the pressing silence in the room. He sat with his hands in his lap, eyes fixed upon them and his lower lip trembling. "Jen…" he spoke her name, but said nothing more, pulled his lips tightly together as though trying to savor the taste of her name on his lips. Perhaps thinking he would not be given the chance to speak it again.

"I failed you," he stated after what felt like hours. This, however, made her react. Her arm refused to cooperate, and she could merely flip her hand because her arm was so stiff, but he caught the movement and instinctively reached out to take her hand in his. She tensed a little, but figured he must have thought the tension was just because she was stiff and therefore did not pull away, which she was thankful for.

"How?" was all she could say in return to his question.

He shrugged.

"You don't get it?" he spoke softly, his thumb subconsciously stroking the back of her hand.

She flared up a little as he said that.

"I was shot, Jethro. With a bullet in my stomach. Then I have been shot full of medications. I am sorry if my mind is a little lazy," she snapped but did not regret her outburst as she saw the look on his face. He was struggling with a great deal of pain, but so was she, and she just wanted to hear something coming straight from his heart, no stalling, no stupid questions. He felt her feebly trying to tug her hand away from his, but he refused to let her go, his gaze fixed upon their entwined fingers.

"I didn't know, Jen," he finally looked her in the eyes, the sadness and pain in his voice mirrored in his eyes. "I didn't know what had happened, no one had informed me. Hell, the entire agency knew, except me, you husband. I'm a failure as a husband, but what else is new?" his uncertain eyes once again drifted from hers, back down to their hands.

"You're not a failure," she replied automatically, causing him to half-heartedly chuckle, and raising his gaze up to her again. Though she wasn't sure if she meant what she said or not, perhaps not wanting to think about the fact he had failed her, while the truth was that that might have been exactly what he had done.

"For better and for worse, right?" he quoted from the wedding vows they had taken almost two years ago. "I was there for the good times, but where was I during the bad times?" she wasn't sure if he was asking her or asking himself.

"You were in your basement, hiding away from me," she answered anyway and noted the slight twitch of his jaw. "Ever since we lost our baby," she continued twisting the knife and didn't know how long it would take until his fragile control would snap. He swallowed hard. Kept his composure but she felt his grip around her hand tighten as his whole body seemed to tense up.

"You didn't speak to me when we came home from the hospital that day, you tucked me into bed like the doctor had instructed, then I saw nothing more of you. You moved your life into the basement, hiding in the shadows behind your boat. Hiding from me. You wouldn't even look at me, but the few moments I managed to catch your eye, all I saw was blame. You blamed me for losing our baby,"

"Stop it, Jenny! Stop!" he finally broke, rose abruptly from the chair and released her hand as if it had burned him. She clenched her teeth, knowing she had crumbled what was left of his fragile façade, not knowing if she should fear what would come next or not. Her voice had never risen during her rant, nor had it held any kind of threatening tone. All she had done was giving him the truth he had failed to see. Now she watched him as he turned his back to her, looking out the window, and though she registered his slumped posture, she could not help recalling the last time she had been in a hospital bed, and he had turned away from her. Only this time, she knew she could not turn too. That would mean she'd lose him for good, and that was something she wouldn't be able to handle.

"Then talk to me," she demanded and though the area around her wound was tingling with a pain that she knew would turn to a forceful throbbing if she dared moving, she was not going to step down from this fight. She knew it was about either losing him or losing herself.

"It wasn't you I blamed, I blamed myself," his voice was low, but it still carried loud and clear through the room. He grazed his fingertips against the cool glass. The first few raindrops crashed down against the window pane. He glanced at her over his shoulder. She was half-lying, propped up on the pillows and obviously waiting for him to continue. He knew he owed her and as he had already started, he knew he had to keep explaining if he would have even the slightest chance at mending the broken bond between them.

He left his position by the window and approached her once again, sinking down into the chair but did not reach for her hand again. Instead he wound his own fingers together and placed them in his lap, his gaze wandering between his hands and her face.

"It was my duty to protect you; my responsibility to make sure my pregnant wife would be alright," his voice broke.

She reached out her hand and placed it gently on his knee, ignoring the fact that her body was protesting the act.

"It wasn't your fault that I fell in the stairs, Jethro. And besides, if you would have walked around holding my hand twenty-four hours a day, I would have killed you myself," she made a small smile as she attempted the joke. Her husband, on the other hand, looked anything but amused.

"Jen…" he began, and her smile was quickly wiped from her face as he raised his head and she found the blue eyes holding a heartbreaking agony and she knew that whatever was tormenting him was going to slip off his lips any second.

"I had dropped a couple of nails in the stairs that morning. I had meant to pick them up, but you yelled for me, and I forgot about them. You slipped on them later that afternoon…" he couldn't bring himself to carry on, doubting his voice would hold any longer. He looked down into his lap as her hand placed over his. He noticed her strained expression and clasped her hand in both of his, bringing them closer to the bed so she wouldn't have to stretch so much. She looked thankful for that.

"Why didn't you tell me? This must have been tearing you apart keeping all this bottled up," she said softly.

He shrugged.

"I was beating myself up about it, Jen. I didn't see the time flowing, I…" he rushed a hand down his face, "I didn't want to see your pain, knowing I had caused you it. I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew we had to and that honestly scared me, Jenny. I tried so hard to bury it deep inside myself," when he finished talking, his eyes were glittering with unshed tears.

"When you say you 'beat yourself up about it', I hope you don't mean that literary," she said quietly. He avoided her glance and she got the interpretation he'd given himself a head-slap or two. "Jethro…"

"I didn't need you to put the blame on me too," he avoided her question, knowing she'd already guessed the answer.

"I wouldn't have,"

He looked up at her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes and wondered what kind of person he had taken her for.

"It was an accident," she tried to assure him, though this new piece of information put everything in a whole different light, she could not put the blame on him, he'd already punished himself enough.

He reached out to wipe away the tears that had started to run down her cheeks. She put up her hand and held his against her cheek.

Silence stretched between them, neither knowing where to go from now on. When the silence reached the extent it was almost unbearable, they both realized they had to say something.

"I thought…"

"Jethro, I…"

They spoke at the same time.

Their eyes met, he felt the corner of his lips curl up in a small smile, for the first time in a very long time.

"You first," she offered.

"I thought I was losing you, when Cynthia told me you'd been shot. I had had a feeling in my gut all morning, but I was too irritated… after what had happened in the kitchen this morning, and I didn't bother about it," he was staring out the window, gently caressing her hand still. "That's when I realized, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," again, he met her gaze. "I feared it would be like Shannon and Kelly all over again, and I can't go through that again Jen,"

"So, you've been blaming yourself for the loss of our baby, and been haunted with your memories of Shannon and Kelly, all this time?" she asked softly. He nodded.

"Feels like I can't love anyone without putting them in harms way, or hurting them," a tear trickled down his cheek, dripped from his face and landed on her hand. It broke her heart that he would even think such a thing, but the deep sadness in his pale blue eyes indicated that he actually believed it.

"I'm still here," she assured him. He tilted his head up.

"But our baby isn't," he said in a low voice. Tears were forming in her eyes and he was momentarily confused before realizing it was the mentioning of their unborn child that was getting her upset. She tried shaking her head, but pain rippled up her neck and she stifled a cry of pain.

"Jenny, relax. Calm down," he hushed her and instinctively reached out his hand to caress her head. She tired to do as he said, but found it too hard to fight the battle against the tears and they flowed freely down her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, eyes sparkling with concern.

"I haven't really dealt with it," she sobbed, "I was struggling to find a way to get you back, and I didn't want to grieve alone, if I though about it, I would have broken apart, and I didn't want to do that without you supporting me," her voice broke as she began to cry loudly.

She felt strong arms encircle her and she buried her head in her husband's chest and wept against him, all the emotions regarding her child's untimely death that had been built up over a period of six months were struggling to be released.

Gibbs held her head close to him, one hand entangled in her hair, the other holding her neck in a firm grip. His head was lowered to her ear and he whispered reassuring words to her. He hushed her and whispered her name, over and over again until her crying subsided and she started to hiccup. He sat with her in his arms until she had no tears left to cry, never intending on relinquishing his hold on her, but as he felt gravity pull her back down onto the pillows, he gently loosened his grip and let her fall back. She looked up at him from under heavy eyelids.

"Sleep, Jenny," he ordered, knowing she was already weakened and her breakdown hadn't helped.

"You'll still be here when I wake up?" she inquired.

"You know I will,"

"Do I?" she questioned, and he knew she had every right to. But he knew, it would be different from now on.

"I won't leave your side, ever again. Unless you want me to,"

She smiled a small smile, a smile that warmed him up on the inside.

"Don't you dare leave,"

He leant down to kiss her forehead.

"Sleep, Jen," he sat with her hand clasped in both of his long after she had fallen asleep, just watching her and thinking how damn close he'd been to losing her. That was when he realized his cheeks were wet from tears and he swallowed hard as his eyes never left his wife.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Here's the new chapter. I hope to have the next up soon, if I can get out of this writer's block. I hope you'll like this one and please review, I appreciate and value your thoughts/feedback highly!**

_Chapter 9_

He stood by his promise, he never left her side. Every time she opened her eyes, she found him there, every day with a slightly bigger smile on his face as she gradually got better. For the first time in months, they laughed together as the rest of the team came to visit, Abby of course being to first one to notice the wedding band on Gibbs' finger, and the matching one on Jen's bedside table. No one seemed overly surprised that they shared a special something, though Abby seemed a bit put-off that Gibbs hadn't told her.

One rainy afternoon when the team was visiting, as Ziva was telling a particularly funny story about something Tony had done while acting team leader in Gibbs absence, Jen and Gibbs' eyes met over their intertwined hands. Though the team might know about their marriage, they knew nothing about the baby they were supposed to have had. And they meant to keep it that way. Though they were slowly but thoroughly re-building the foundations to a happy and strong marriage, they had their dark days when the memories re-surfaced and came back to haunt them. Those days they stuck together. Having learned from their mistakes, they both knew they needed each others support, and even though they could not always talk about it, a gentle touch was more often than not all the reassurance she needed to know they would pull through.

"Jethro," Ducky's voice reached his ears and he tore his gaze away from his wife's eyes. "Let's go buy some coffee, shall we?" he suggested and was already holding the door open. Gibbs raised one eyebrow, but couldn't deny his need for caffeine. He quickly kissed the corner of Jen's mouth before following his old friend out the door.

Gibbs had instantly known he had agreed to something other than just getting coffee when he had followed Ducky out that door, and he was pretty sure what was to come. He stepped out into the rain and together they hurried out the hospital yard to the nearest coffee shop that luckily enough was just around the corner, as Gibbs absolutely refused to drink the coffee from the hospital.

Stepping into the small shop, Gibbs placed his order and waited patiently, extremely aware of Ducky's presence behind his back. He took the liberty of order coffee for his whole team, knowing what they drank and knowing the additional warmth was welcome in this awful November weather. He gave the cashier an appreciating smile before paying and walked out the shop with Ducky behind him.

He took a sip from his own coffee and welcomed the warmth rushing through his veins.

"Something you wanna ask me, Duck?" he asked and turned to his friend walking under his umbrella and sipping his tea.

"Am I that obvious, Jethro?" he chuckled slightly, but took on a more serious expression as he turned to study his friend. Gibbs was looking a lot more relaxed now than he had in months, not to mention happier.

"How are you and Jenny doing?" he asked, noticing the corners of Gibbs' mouth pulled up in a small smile, a sight that had been fairly unusual during the six months before she had been shot, and he couldn't help wondering what had brought that on.

"We're doing better and better," Gibbs stated, and though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked rather contented.

"Good, good," Ducky nodded, "I noticed you two were having some problems before the shooting, how are those working out?" he asked. Gibbs walked in silence for a while, knowing it was not Ducky's intention to be snooping around, he was just a close friend with a natural instinct to provide advice and help to those he loved.

"She was pregnant," it suddenly slipped out of him, and Ducky froze in his tracks. Gibbs turned around to face him.

"Good lord, what happened?" he asked when recovered from the shock.

"She lost the baby," his eyes glazed over and for a moment he looked lost in a particularly unpleasant memory. He swallowed. "She fell in the stairs,"

"Oh my…"

"And I was being a bastard, Duck. I shut her out, I didn't see to her needs. I was blaming myself and felt sorry for myself for having caused her pain, even though I wasn't even aware of how much she was hurting," he kicked on a small stone that bounded away across the sidewalk.

He gave Ducky no chance to reply as he continued.

"When she was shot, it was like a wake-up call. I realized how close I was to losing her, and I couldn't live with that, Duck, I couldn't lose her,"

Ducky was quicker this time and managed to get a word in.

"Jethro, I've known you for quite some time now, and even though I didn't see you with Shannon, I have never seen you care for a woman like you care for Jenny," he started and held up his finger in his face, "You'd be a fool to let her go,"

Gibbs smiled.

"I know. What hurts the most is I almost did. Tragedy tore us apart, but it took another tragedy to bring us back together,"

"You don't know what you have until it's gone," Ducky stated wisely.

Gibbs gestured that they'd keep walking and he fell into a comfortable pace next to his old friend. Ducky kept going on about Jenny, about her recovery and what a strong woman she was. Nothing Gibbs didn't already know.

Returning to the hospital, Gibbs was wet into his bare skin, while Ducky strode into Jen's room completely dry due to having been smart enough to bring an umbrella. Gibbs stopped in the doorway, watching his wife let out a joyous laugh at something Tony had just said, Ziva and Abby and McGee were all grinning, whether it was because of Jen or Tony, he couldn't tell. His own smile was for Jen, because seeing her smile the way she was, was the thing he treasured the most in this world.

"Jethro," she said warmly when her eyes found her husband lingering in the doorway. His grin widened and he walked hurriedly into the room, eager to reach her side.

"You're soaking wet," she giggled and wiped water out of his face, he caught her wrist and placed a soft kiss to her palm.

"It doesn't matter." He mumbled against her palm. It didn't matter because though he was soaking wet, he wasn't freezing. How could he freeze when she smiled at him like that?

Ducky leaned against the wall, noting happily that everyone was smiling, and the sad look in Gibbs' eyes were replaced with a warm look of love and affection for his wife. They were holding hands, like they had done all the times he'd been there to visit, and as Tony resumed his story, Gibbs' eyes never left Jen.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in update. I have had a serious writer's block. I said before it would be this chapter and an epilogue, but if you don't mind, it'll be another chapter after this one, before the epilogue. I hope I have done alright on this chapter though, I've been struggling with my writing for a little while now. I'll try to get to the next chapter as soon as I can. Please review! Thanks. This chapter has some sexual content.**

_Chapter 10_

He smiled at the tell-tale sound of her approaching, her gentle footsteps in the stairs. He turned his head around and watched his wife descend the staircase to the basement. He softly caressed the hull of the boat, proud for his handiwork and contented that it was finished.

She let go of the banister and began walking toward him, one hand resting gently over her stomach where the wound still tinged with pain when walking the stairs. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd reprimanded her for putting unnecessary strain on her wound that wasn't quite healed, just to come down here to see him, when she could stay in the hallway and call his name and he'd be with her in a second. But she was too stubborn and refused to show weakness to him.

She smiled proudly as he had started walking toward her too, meeting half-way and he gently placed his hand on her hip. He leaned forward and left a loving kiss on her cheek.

"You ok?" he asked, his voice low and slightly raspy. She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I'm fine, Jethro. Trust me," she said, but still he noticed her hand curling into a fist, her way of dealing with the pain he knew she was still feeling at times.

"Uh-huh," though it was clear he didn't believe her, he said nothing more, knowing that she wanted to pretend she was alright and not comfortable talking about that she was in pain. But he knew, knew from the way she sometimes screwed up her face when she though he was not looking, knew from listening to her hissing out in pain at night, those nights he would always hold her, gently but lovingly.

But she never complained about it.

He gently tucked her hair behind her ear, took his time to caress her cheek with his thumb, slipping the hand under her chin, he tilted her head up. Her expressive green eyes met his intense blue ones. He lent down, brushed his nose against hers before placing his lips over hers, the kiss soft but passionate. She slipped her arm around his waist, holding him close and worked her hand underneath his shirt to feel the skin on his back.

He groaned against her and pulled his lips away from hers, giving her a glare. She smiled sweetly, a smile that was contagious and the next moment an equally wide grin spread across his face too.

He pulled her slightly closer, knowing by now how to hold her to not inflict any unnecessary pain to her wound that was almost healed. He heard her sighing into his neck, the feel of her breath on his neck gave him goose bumps and it was hard to get over all the ways she still affected him. Still turned him on.

He placed a soft kiss to her hair, inhaling the scent of her hair, let the smell fill up his soul and he had to seriously struggle to not get too lost in everything there was about her. And the teasing kisses planted all over his neck weren't helping either.

"Jen," he groaned as she drew nearer to his soft spot. She pulled back a little, looking up into his face with a mischievous grin.

"What?" she asked, playing innocent, knowing how it would only exasperate him further.

"Don't tease,"

"Jethro, I'm fine. Really. Don't you think it's about time we…" her tone was too seductive for her own good, and he had to quickly cover her mouth, with his hand. She glared at him.

"You're not good enough. The doctors said you needed to rest, no unnecessary strain," he reprimanded. She tilted her head and looked up at him with curiosity.

"Since when do you listen to doctors?" she asked, amused.

"I don't give a damn about the doctors," he said softly and pushed her hair behind her ear. "I just want you to be fully recovered. I don't wanna hurt you, again," his hands slipped down her shoulders as he spoke, gripping lightly around her upper arms. She gazed lovingly up at him, reached up a hand to trail her fingers down his face, hoping to smooth his strained expression.

Her fingertips were cool against his skin, touching him ever so softly and he closed his eyes and let a soft sigh out through his lips that were now eagerly seeking out the palm of her hand, planting a kiss to it. She trailed every inch of his rough skin, and he enjoyed the sensation slightly more than a lot. It had always amazed him what effect her touching had on him, and though he felt those perfect hands on him every day, he never stopped to be amazed. They soothed him, calmed him when he had a nightmare, gave him strength when he needed and gave him the pleasure he wanted.

Her fingers gently trailed along his lips, causing him to shiver involuntarily and he was just about to open his eyes and glare at her, when he felt her lean closer, her breath hot on his skin and it was suddenly impossible to force his eyelids to open. He kept them shut, his senses went into overdrive and he was incredibly aware of just how hot his skin got where she breathed on him, how the smell of her perfume found its way into his nose and how those teasing hands grazed his skin on their way around his neck to rest at the back of it.

And there he had the perfect moment. The moment when they were just like he wanted them to be, the moment when he felt like he was one with her without having to make love to her. When her breath on his lips felt like his own and the hands at her neck felt like a part of his own body and her scent just being the natural scent of the air he inhaled. Her body pressed up against his seemed to melt into his and when his lips met hers, it just intensified the sensation. He gladly devoured the love she offered through the kiss and responded with the same affection.

The kiss they shared was slow and filled with love, but he wouldn't for the world want to make it into a heated, passionate one, he needed the power of healing from this one just as much as she did, knowing all too well they were both still suffering from the events of the past seven months, both physically and emotionally. But he had no doubt they would pull through together, though the incident would leave its scars, he would be pretty much whole as long as he had her.

She pulled back a little, rubbing her nose affectingly against his before resting her head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck, taking a deep breath to make sure she was filled up with his scent of sawdust and aftershave that was close to the only thing in the world that could sooth her. His hand tangled up in her hair and held her to him, just taking pleasure in being able to do so, because just the memories of hearing himself suggest a divorce made him feel sick, memories of how cold and inconsiderate he'd been to her before made him think he didn't deserve to hold her, but she'd made it clear on more than one occasion it was ok, he'd been broken, confused, and so had she. They just needed to piece themselves back together, and it was going remarkably well, but he knew they could not have done it alone.

He withdrew from her, only to hear her groan at the loss of contact and he smiled as she tugged at his collar, trying to bring him back to her but he placed his hands over hers and removed them. He dropped them and let them fall to her sides, walking around to stand behind her, but she swirled around, narrowing her eyes at him and questioned him suspiciously just to what he was up to.

He smirked, placed his hands on her shoulders and twisted her around again. He planted a soft kiss to her neck and whispered into her ear.

"I wanna show you something." His voice was low and raspy and his breath tickled her neck, causing the hair at the back of her neck to rise.

"Then show me."

He laughed a little.

"I need you to close your eyes."

She craned her neck around to eye him suspiciously, an elegant eyebrow raised.

"Why?" She couldn't keep the curiosity out of her voice much as she tried.

"It's a surprise." He stated firmly.

"I hate surprises."

"Not this one." He promised and reached around her to cover her eyes with his hands.

"You don't trust me, Jethro?" She asked amused as his hands blocked her entire vision.

"I don't trust you'll refrain from peeking." He said and slowly began leading her through the basement.

"Where are we going?" She giggled as he paused to kiss her neck.

He felt her eyelashes flutter underneath his fingers and smiled to himself; she was impatient as a child. He swallowed and quickly pushed away all thoughts of children.

"Don't peek." He said, looking over her shoulder to check his hands were covering her eyes properly.

"I'm not." She whined, but he could feel her facial muscles forming a smile.

"You're trying to." He shot back.

She sighed.

"Can I look soon?"

"You can never pace yourself, Jen." He said, half-teasing, half-serious. He groaned as she stepped on his toes, and he strongly suspected she did it on purpose.

"Not very nice, _dear wife._" He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"I am sorry, _dear husband._" She shot back over her shoulder.

He groaned and pushed her a little further. He turned her and pulled to a stop at the far end of the basement, letting his gaze run over the varnished surface of the boat in front of him for a moment before his attention was brought back to the woman before him, who was now wriggling impatiently. He smiled to himself, and though he couldn't really see her face at the moment, he could see it clearly in his mind how adorable she looked when she was frustrated with him.

"Are you ever going to show me, or are we going to stand like this forever?" her slightly exasperated voice brought him back to reality and he leaned forward so his mouth was close to her ear.

"Patience, Jenny." He whispered and heard her giggle.

"Yes, because you're always so patient yourself." She laughed and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he gave in. "You ready?"

"Yeah, five minutes ago." She replied sarcastically, but he was well aware she was incredibly curious to what he was about to show her, she _did_ like surprises, and he had a strong feeling she would love this one.

"Okay." He whispered and, still keeping her eyes covered, moved to stand before her. He leaned closer and settled his lips over hers just as he withdrew his hand. He felt her eyelids flutter against his face, caught her in a moment of utter surprise before she yielded to the pull of his lips and wound her arms around his neck. His hands drifted down her sides, grazed the outskirts of her breasts ever so lightly, but the touch was enough to draw a moan from her, and continued down to rest at her hips.

She pulled away, gazing up at him with sparkling eyes.

"That wasn't your big surprise, was it?" She titled her head and raised one eyebrow. He chuckled lightly, and then indicated with a nod of his head toward the boat she would look that direction. She did, and her breath caught in her throat.

He grinned widely at her reaction. He lifted his hand to brush a strand of red-blonde hair out of her face; she was too stunned to notice him.

"You like it?" he said in a low voice, but it traveled perfectly loud and clear through the basement. She didn't reply, and he smirked, pleased with himself for finally having succeeded in rendering her speechless for possibly the first time.

She felt his hand slip into hers, but she couldn't force any words out through her lips. Her gaze raked the boat in front of them, the beautiful varnished surface, the perfectly sculpted wood, but her eyes quickly skimmed past that, and were settled upon the name written in big, black letters across the wood. _Jenny_.

Her mouth opened and closed several times, much to her husband's amusement and her frustration, before she was finally able to choke out a few words.

"You – you named it - ?"

Gibbs' grin got even wider at seeing her so obviously taken aback. She took a step forward, dragging him with her as she'd forgotten his hand was in hers, and together they walked up to the side of the boat. Gibbs lingered behind her, allowing her to get acquainted with the boat. In stunned astonishment she stroked her fingers gingerly over the varnished surface.

"I named it after the woman I love." He stated simply and she tore her gaze away from the name on the boat and beamed at him. He was unable to stop himself from laughing out loud. He tugged at her wrist and she immediately fell into his open arms, resting her head comfortably against his chest as he ran his hands up and down her back, she nuzzled into his shirt affectingly.

"You like it?" He repeated his earlier question. She chuckled into his shirt and lifted her head to look him in the eyes.

"You built me a boat." She said in astonishment and looked at him with big eyes. He smiled warmly down at her and his fingers played absentmindedly with a strand of her hair.

"Yeah, I realized "Jenny" was missing from the collection." He teased and his blue gaze shifted to settle on the boat. Jen watched silently how his expression softened while taking in his handiwork. A sparkle of passion burned momentarily in the ice blue irises that was always present when he was working on his wood. She loved to see that look on his face, his utter affection for his work. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hands in slow circles over her back, but she was very aware of it, wondering what was on his mind, well aware there was little chance he'd actually tell her, though that didn't stop her from wondering.

"It's beautiful." She suddenly said, rousing him from his reverie. She groaned silently, her speaking had stopped his hands moving over her back, a feeling she had always enjoyed a little too much.

"_She_ is beautiful." He corrected teasingly and she rolled her eyes dramatically. "When are you going to learn a boat is always a she, Jen?"

"Probably never." She mumbled against his lips that she tilted her head upwards to reach. He captured her mouth and pulled her into a gentle kiss.

"Jenny…" He began a bit hesitantly; she slipped her hands to the small of his back as she waited for him to continue. He shook his head with a forced smile on his lips. "Never mind, it's stupid." He mumbled and tried to wave it all off by slipping from her arms and was halfway to the workbench that was his intended destination, when she suddenly grabbed his wrist and forced him to turn to her.

"What?" She inquired.

"Nothing." He made to turn back.

"_What?_" She demanded and pressed her lips tightly together as a ting of pain erupted from the area of her stomach. He immediately stopped trying to free himself from her, his exasperated look replaced by a look of concern.

"You ok?" He asked worriedly.

"I'm fine." She hissed, more annoyed than hurt, he quickly realized. Then her expression relented. "Nothing can be too stupid." She coaxed and tilted her head while waiting for him to speak. He licked his lips, glancing from her to the boat and then back to her. Her eyes searched his, and she was met by the pain deep into the light blue irises, a pain she knew very well, and suddenly had a very good idea as to what this was about. She looked away momentarily; the pain was too hard to see.

"If you want, you can slap me for this." He offered and she glanced back at him, seeing a small smile graze his features. She nodded briefly.

"Good to know."

"Jen," he began, taking both her hands in his and held them to his chest, forcing her to look at him. "Despite everything that's happened, I still want a family with you." His gaze shifted down her figure. "I'd love to see you pregnant." He added with a smile, and she was unable to fight her facial muscles that wanted to form a smile. She surveyed him carefully.

"That wasn't so stupid, was it?" she asked softly.

"I just thought, that with everything that's happened, everything we've gone through these past nine months, that you aren't ready to start thinking about a family. I think we both know another failure will break us apart even more. And let's face it; we're not getting any younger, so if we're ever going to have a child, it'd have to be soon. I don't mean to push you, you know, just stating the facts. Or, we could always adopt, if you'd like…" the rest of his rant was muffled out behind her hand as she'd covered his mouth with it. She laughed.

"You know, it always annoys me that you rarely express your feelings emotionally, but when you do, you sometimes tend to overdo it." She teased and laughed again at his confused expression. He kissed her palm tenderly. She switched to a more serious expression as she continued. "I, too, would love to have a child with you." Her hand drifted down to her stomach where he knew her almost-healed wound was situated. "But I don't know if I can. I don't know if the injury will prevent me from carrying a child." She finished sadly, and her husband caught her hand again and put it firmly over his heart.

"Well," he said, bringing her attention back to him. "It can't hurt to talk to a doctor about it, right? Hear what the chances are that you can carry." He looked at her pleadingly, and she suddenly understood just how badly he wanted this child. She swallowed and nodded.

"If I can…" She whispered, biting her lip before finishing. "I guess we can try again."

Gibbs eyes lit up momentarily and it meant more to her than he would ever know to see that sparkle in his eyes.

"You sure?" He asked suddenly, his expression cautious for a brief moment before replaced with a look of surprise as she wrenched her hand free and reached up and slapped the back of his head. She laughed.

"You did say I could slap you."

He rolled his eyes slightly, but that didn't conceal his amused expression.

"We will try again." She mumbled against his lips, offering him no time to reply as she crashed her mouth down onto his. She wound her arms around his neck to hold him closer, feeling his work their way around her waist. She demanded access to his mouth and got it, shoving her tongue deep into the recesses of his mouth. The sensation roused something within her, something she hadn't been able to give in to for months. The sensation completely washed out the tinge of pain in her abdomen, and she instantly knew she was ready, she could do this, and she most certainly would. Still keeping one arm around his neck, she slipped the other hand down his chest, trailing sensitive fingers over the fabric of his shirt and finally reaching the place where it was tucked into his pants. She pulled it up a bit and let her hand work its way underneath his shirt, reveling in the feel of his warm skin.

He moaned into her mouth and tried to pull away, but the tightening of her hand around his neck and her harder pull on his mouth had him hopelessly captured. He slowly worked a hand up to her shoulder, and when her mouth relented somewhat, he grabbed the opportunity and gently pushed her away.

"Jenny," he panted and moved his other hand to settle over hers to stop it from wriggling further up under his shirt.

"Jethro." She shot back, ignoring his feeble attempts at stopping her, knowing he wanted this as much as she did, if the hard poking into her hips was anything to go by. She lowered her lips to nip at his neck. He groaned.

"Jen, Jenny stop." He said, rather reluctantly, because he was slightly too turned on by her fierce kissing and teasing hands. She sighed and straightened up her neck to stare him in the eyes.

"Jethro," she said firmly, letting him know there was no way he could argue with her on this matter. "I don't give a damn what the doctors say. And I don't care about what you say either," She added. "I'm well enough to do this, and frankly, I think we both need it. I'm fine, Jethro." She stated when he was about to argue. "Please." She added in a softer tone. Her hands roamed his chest, her mouth once again finding the skin in his neck and that was when he admitted himself well and truly lost, and unable to deny her anything.

"Fine." He groaned when she found his weak spot. She smirked into his shoulder, knowing he'd be gentle on her. She panted hard when he pulled up her tee at her back and trailed his fingers upwards, gripping at her flesh, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. She was already fumbling with his belt, but his hand on hers stilled her attempts, the look in his eyes telling her there was no need to rush. He reclaimed her mouth with his, his hand slipping down over her ass and the other grazing her breasts through her shirt and bra.

"Make love to me, Jethro." She whispered as he pinned her to the boat named after her. He was careful not to lean against her wounded side as he grabbed her wrist and brought it up over her head while kissing her senseless. She lifted one leg to drag it up against his thigh, locking around his leg and forcing his erection to rub through the fabric of their pants and into her hips, knowing it would make him forget any thoughts of 'no need to rush'. His hips bucked and he almost bit her lip and she smirked against him as his hand roamed down her curves to fumble with the button at the top of her pants. She slipped her hand down to do the same to his pants. She was panting heavily as he lifted her slightly off the floor, holding her firmly around her naked thighs, wrapping her legs securely around his waist. His lips continued their assault on her neck, his hand massaging her breasts. Her hands gripped at his hair, whispering into his ear what she wanted him to do. It finally became too much for him, and staring into her eyes, he drove himself deep into her. Her scream of pleasure echoed throughout the basement.

He moved deep inside her, his eyes never leaving her face, it had been too long since he'd seen her like this, and he wouldn't want to miss a second of seeing that pleasure etched upon her face. He pushed them both over the edge and his groan mingled with her cries as pleasure reverberated through their bodies.

"God, it's been way too long." She panted into his mouth, her chest heaving against his trying to regain control over her breathing.

"Yeah, I'd say." He agreed and kissed her sweaty forehead.

"You ok?" He asked, his worry kicking in again as he helped her untangle her legs from around his waist and held her securely until her legs had stopped shaking so she could stand on her own. She pressed herself against his chest and looked up at him with her face glowing and a huge smile on her face.

"Never better." She said, and he smiled and brought her face up for another kiss.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay, I just never got around to write what I had originally intended for this chapter. The idea for this chapter, as it is now, I had first though would be the epilogue, but decided it'd do well as a chapter instead. I have another idea for an epilogue, which I will try to write as soon as I can. I hope you'll enjoy this!! This chapter has some Tabby and McGiva as well!

_Chapter 11_

_Six years later_

Jethro Gibbs sat on the steps to the porch of his house, under the ice blue autumn sky and among the sunbeams that filtered through the brightly colored leaves decorating the trees at the outskirts of the garden. The gentle wind brushed them off their branches, having them tumbling to the ground, catching in the grass and in the bushes. He warmed his hands around the coffee mug as he thought about how quickly time moved. Another autumn had come, another one of Jen's birthdays was just around the corner, man it had felt like barely months since her last one, that year he'd given her a trip to Paris – the look of surprise on her face had been enough to tell him she liked the gift, a lot. Then the thank-you-kiss had him completely and utterly convinced this was going to be a weekend he wouldn't forget anytime soon. He sat contemplating what to get her this year – as it was getting harder and harder to surprise her. Still, he would never be able to top the gift she gave him for his birthday five years ago.

He smiled fondly as two small redheads swooshed by, like two whirlwinds that threw around the fallen leaves at each other. He took another sip of his coffee – letting the hot liquid warm him up as the cold started to creep up on him.

"Daddy, daddy!" the redheaded girl yelled, his head instantly shot up at the sound, sighing internally and wondered what her brother had done now.

"What, sweetie?"

She pointed accusingly at her brother, where she was sitting on the ground next to the pile of fallen brightly colored leaves they had gathered up together.

"He pushed me." She pouted. The boy with the unruly red curls grinned.

"Tommy, don't push your sister." Gibbs reprimanded his son, whose grin faltered slightly, but wasn't late to come up with an excuse.

"But it's not like she got hurt." He tried and glanced sideways at his sister who was now lying on her back on the ground, eyes closed and face turned upwards toward the icy blue sky, with a still smile on her lips, seemingly having forgotten the incident.

Gibbs couldn't help but to smile. He gave his son a brief nod.

"She might next time." He reminded, waving his hand a little to tell he'd let it go this once. Tommy smirked down at his sister's still form, and then took a dive into the leaves, causing her to shriek out in surprise. Next second they were involved in a playful wrestling match among the leaves.

Gibbs shook his head, still smiling. _Kids._ He thought. _Bless them._ The wind tore at his hair as he watched the twins play. The best birthday present he'd ever gotten was his twins. They had been born two days after his birthday, and even though five years had passed, he could still imagine hearing Jen's voice whispering _"Happy belated birthday, Jethro"_ when he'd carried Tommy to place him in her arms, and he was holding Kayla safely against his chest. The wave of pride that had welled up inside him at the sight of his two miracles faded in comparison to the enormous amount of happiness he felt as he heard her words. He tore his eyes away from the equally blue ones Kayla had cracked to beam at his wife in the hospital bed. She didn't look at him; she was too preoccupied with Tommy. Gibbs didn't even bother to wipe away the single tear running down his cheek.

He was roused from his trip down memory lane by the soft sound of the door opening behind him. He didn't turn, already knowing who it could only be, and didn't flinch when a delicate hand placed on his shoulder. He glanced at the hand, seeing the golden wedding band glittering in the pale autumn sunlight. He thanked whoever was listening every day that they had been given a second chance, and perhaps a third too, because he remembered all too clear how close they had come to going their separate ways when they had lost their first child. He didn't want to go down that path, ever again.

"Hey honey." Jen greeted him, slipping her arm around his neck and bending forward to leave a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Hi there." He said back and turned his head slightly, so that he was looking straight into the stunningly green eyes of Jenny Gibbs. After the shooting, they had talked and reached an agreement that she was stepping down as Director. As painful as it was to leave the agency that had given her so much more that she ever would have hoped for, she'd made her decision to step down official the next day. He'd seen the pain in her eyes, and that same night he'd assured her it wasn't too late to change her mind. She'd shaken her head with a small smile and told him that despite that she'd truly miss her work; she longed even more for a family. Her career had already required enough sacrifices on her part; she wanted to settle down with the man she loved and have the family they'd for so long desired. He'd understood her logic, gladly accepted it, because he knew he wanted it as much as she did. It had been then she'd taken the final step, and changed her last name to Gibbs. Though he'd never admit it, he was proud. Now when the twins were older, she'd slowly started to make her way back into politics, as she'd all too soon realized she was going crazy having nothing to do during the days when her husband was working and the twins were at kindergarten – though she was careful to not get too involved with her work.

He'd never forget the day she told him she was pregnant, though the doctors had told her there was a chance she could still get pregnant, he'd constantly been worried they were going to fail – again. She'd nearly killed him when she had casually given him the news that she was pregnant one evening at the dinner table. Choking on Chinese take-out, he'd stared at her almost as though he thought she was joking. But the wide grin and happy glittering in her eyes had him at least half-convinced, as he couldn't quite grasp what she was telling him. She'd repeated her statement with an even wider smile as he slowly processed the information, before pulling her into a passionate kiss. Determined to not face a repeat of their earlier tragedy, he made sure to be constantly by her side, despite the numerous threats he received, he refused to leave her alone. He banned her from walking the basement stair, much to both their annoyances, as he had in mind of building a cradle for their child, but she was going crazy being alone upstairs. He'd joked about her threatening to castrate him when he was constantly around her, but when he wasn't there; she all of a sudden missed him. She'd just glared at him and told him she'd go to bed.

"What are you thinking about?" Jen's voice brought him back from his thoughts. He blinked as she looked at him curiously, the corners of her mouth pulled slightly upwards in a knowing smile. She had moved to sit down beside him on the steps; her hand resting on his thigh, a coffee mug clasped in her other hand. She surveyed him thoroughly.

Gibbs didn't answer. He moved his gaze back to the kids playing in the far end of the garden and at the same time sneaking an arm around Jen's waist, effectively pulling her closer.

Jen watched him with a small smile on her lips. The wind tore at her long red hair and she quickly gave up the struggle to keep it out of her face. She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

He nodded his head slightly in the increasing wind.

"I'm thinking about how far we've come." He suddenly answered, turning his head to meet her gaze. His blue eyes sparkled. His hand covered hers still on his thigh.

"Yes." She said, letting her gaze drift fleetingly to her kids, then back at him. "We did it." She entwined her fingers with his. She remembered the day she'd visited the gynecologist who had suddenly given her the news she was expecting twins. She remembered she hadn't been sure whether to laugh or not, because she had never seen Gibbs' jaw so literally drop before. She remembered thinking, that being blessed with twins this time, almost felt like compensation for the child they had lost. Almost, because another child would not quite make up for the loss of another. She didn't say that out loud to her husband, but one night when they laid in bed together, he revealed to her he'd been thinking the same thought.

"You ok?" She looked up at the sound of his voice. His hand shot out to touch her cheek, and she was surprised when he brushed a single tear off her cheek. "You're crying." He sounded worried, his blue eyes tingling with concern. But she just smiled.

"Happy tears, Jethro. Happy tears." She assured him.

"Good." He said with a smile. She wasn't prepared as he suddenly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap, causing her to shriek out before the sound turned into cheerful laughing. He joined in her laughter, one of the things he cherished the most in the entire world, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, and same for the twins – seeing them smile every morning was definitely worth getting out of bed for.

She wound her arms around his neck – unbelievably enough with her coffee cup still in her hand, without having spilled a drop. She captured his lips firmly with hers. Much as he wanted to kiss her breathless, he pulled away all too soon, because having cast a glance over her shoulder told him Kayla and Tommy had abandoned their games and approached their parents, as always quarreling with each other.

Gibbs nodded his head their direction and Jen turned her head, her hair flowing around her shoulders, catching in the last wandering sunrays, the red glowing almost golden. Gibbs smiled, even after all these years having passed, she was still stunningly beautiful. Her eyes were tinged with gold as she smiled at her children, her arms still around his neck.

"Mommy!" Kayla grinned, throwing herself at her mother, who luckily had Gibbs' arms still around her waist; otherwise she would probably have been knocked down. She disentangled one arm from around him and pulled her daughter into a one-armed hug.

"Are you having fun?" Jen asked softly, tucking a strand of Kayla's red hair behind her ear. The girl beamed.

"We have played in the garden!" She told her.

Jen smiled, nodded shortly and reached out a hand to pick some leaves and grass out of Tommy's red locks.

"Aw, Thomas, I think you need to take a bath before dinner." Jen pointed out and smiled at Tommy's obvious disapproval.

"No arguments." Jen added when he opened his mouth to argue. Kayla giggled as Tommy shot her a glare. Gibbs smirked, pleased to note that his son would get down the Gibbs-glare pretty good, if he just had some practice.

The first raindrops scattered against the dry leaves.

"Okay, you kids get inside, and Tommy, I wanna see you in the bathroom in five minutes, ok? And Kayla, go change your clothes before dinner. Abby, Tony, Tim and Ziva are joining us." Jen instructed, not sounding stern, but her tone of voice left no room for arguments.

"Will Penny and Robin come too?" Kayla asked, referring to Tony and Abby's daughter and Ziva and Tim's son, because apparently after Jen and Gibbs' secret marriage was revealed, they realized rule twelve was pretty much meant to be broken. Though Tim and Tony had earned themselves a headslap each, Gibbs had later announced it had merely been because they shouldn't have waited for his permission to give into love. He had clutched Jen's hand in his and wished he hadn't stalled for so long until finally accepting the fact that they both desired the other.

"Yes, Penny and Robin will be coming too." Gibbs confirmed and Kayla squealed, as Penny was the same age as her and her best friend. Robin was a year younger, but Tommy liked to play with him anyway.

The rain started to fall harder.

"Now get inside and get ready. We'll be with you in a minute." Jen nodded her head toward the door, and the twins were quick to obey, bickering all the way to the door, and both Jen and Gibbs bet they continued up the stairs as well. Jen sighed and leaned against her husband as the rain began to pour, scattering loudly against the roof above them.

Gibbs' hand rubbed up and down her back in soothing circles. Jen nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. She angled her head a little, so that her mouth was toward his neck and her breath teasing his skin. He suppressed the shiver threatening to surface. She slowly dragged her mouth up to his ear.

"I love you." She whispered into his ear.

He drew back a little, smiling and tucking a strand of the red hair behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek.

"I love you too, Jen." He said, his affection for her sparkling in his eyes, bringing her face to his and soon enough having covered her lips with his. She shifted in his lap to get closer to him and at the same time worked a hand around his back.

The rainfall increased again, but neither of them took notice to that, too wrapped up in each other to care.

It wasn't until they heard someone clear their throat behind Jen that they realized they weren't alone. Gibbs glanced up to meet the grinning face of Tony DiNozzo.

"Ehm, hi boss, Jenny." He greeted them, nodding his head in acknowledgement first at Gibbs and then at Jen. Jen rose from her husband's lap, holding out her hand to him to help him get up. When back on his feet, Gibbs didn't let go of her hand.

"Hi Tony." Jen said with a warm smile and pulled him into a friendly hug. Gibbs nodded at him. Tony's hair had gotten slightly greyer over the years, face slightly more lined, but otherwise he was looking pretty much the same, in his Emengildo Zegna suit, Armani tie, Dolce and Gabbana shirt, and his Gucci shoes.

Gibbs was just about to ask where he had his wife and daughter, when he heard the slamming of a car door followed by the sound of scurrying feet on the gravel. A wide smile set upon his face when he saw Abby running towards them. Though she was still a Goth girl, she'd over the years traded out her Spice Goth style for a slightly more sophisticated one, just as black, but more mature. Though that didn't necessarily mean she was any less hyperactive.

Gibbs' breath was momentarily knocked from his chest as Abby threw herself at him, followed closely by five-year-old Penny.

Jen and Tony shared an amused look as Gibbs was struggling to stay on his feet.

Gibbs lifted up Penny and spun around with her a couple of times. With her black hair in pigtails, she was the very image of her mother. She was almost like how Gibbs had always pictured Abby being as a kid, just as hyperactive and always so happy. And not to mention talkative. She immediately started telling Gibbs about something he didn't quite understand what she was talking about, but pretended to anyway.

Abby stepped back, with a huge grin on her face, and instead pulled Jen into a bone crushing hug, which Jen hadn't quite gotten used to even after so many years.

"Hi Abby." She said, slightly breathless, as the woman had obviously tried to squeeze the very breath out of her body.

"Jen, you look great!" Abby exclaimed, taking in Jen's green skirt and black blouse.

"Thank you. You too, Abby." She said and smiled. Abby suddenly looked around the porch.

"Where are the twins?" She asked.

"Well, hopefully Tommy's in the bathroom getting ready for a bath, though I highly doubt it. And Kayla's getting changed." Jen explained, turning her gaze to her husband who had finally put Penny down. The girl strolled over to her mother and tugged at her skirt.

"Yes, sweetie?" Abby said softly and bent down so she was level with her daughter.

"Can I go up to Kayla's room?"

Abby glanced at Jen, who nodded in agreement, and Penny bounced off through the door, the pigtails bumping on her head. Tony snuck up behind his wife and slipped an arm around her waist.

"How about we go inside, it's freezing out here." He shivered, but suddenly remembered the bag in his hand. "Oh, sorry boss, this is for you." He said, holding out the bag to Gibbs, who raised an eyebrow before pulling a bottle of bourbon out of the bag.

"Thanks DiNozzo." He said and smiled appreciatively. Jen took his hand.

"Let's get inside, shall we?" She suggested and Gibbs agreed.

Just as they were about to step in through the front door, the sound of screeching tires caught their attention and all four looked up just as a car swerved violently up on their driveway. Tony winced as it pulled to a halt only inches from his beloved '66 Mustang. He heaved a sigh of relief.

"And here comes the McGee's! With Mrs. McGee at the wheel." Tony announced. Abby snickered, but suggested they'd all wait for Ziva, Tim and Robin. Gibbs wrapped his arm around Jen's waist, pulling her slightly closer in the harsh wind as the McGee family ran as fast as they could through the pouring rain.

"Hi guys!" Jen greeted them warmly and kissed Ziva's cheek.

Ziva was beaming as she began talking to Jen and Abby, who responded enthusiastically. Robin was tugging at Gibbs' pants and he wasn't late to pick up the little fellow. And McGee was looking slightly green in the face, which Tony wasn't late to comment on.

When Robin suddenly sneezed, they all decided it would be best to step inside before they all caught a cold. Gibbs handed Robin back to Ziva, who went inside along with her husband, Abby and Tony. Just as Jen attempted to follow, Gibbs grabbed her wrist and pulled her flat against his chest, pushing the door closed, leaving them alone on the porch.

Jen raised her eyebrows at her husband. He didn't speak, just smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her closer. He leaned slightly closer and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. She brought her hands up to his face and cupped his cheeks as she responded to the kiss. He pulled away, leaving her just slightly breathless.

"What?" She asked when seeing his blue eyes glittering.

He pushed her hair behind her ear.

"I'm happy, Jen." He said in a low voice. She smiled.

"Me too, Jethro. Me too." She kissed him again, softly on the lips.

They walked inside, hand in hand.


	13. Epilogue

_A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews you sent me, I am so happy to see you have appreciated my story. But now it's time to post the epilogue, and I hope you'll like that too! Please review!! Thanks for sticking with the story!_

_Epilogue_

The elderly woman sat at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee in silence. She sighed contentedly as the hot liquid warmed her effectively. A strand of graying hair escaped from the loose bun on top of her head and gently caressed her jaw line. She studied her own reflection in the dark rectangle of glass that was her kitchen window, mirroring the dark of night set outside. She often complained about getting old, that she missed the strength of her youth, and her beauty. Her husband dismissed her complaints, always taking her face in his hands, telling her she was as beautiful as she always had been. Though her face was wrinkled and hair gray, her eyes had never faded. Still just as remarkably green, still with the spark of life, she couldn't help but, sometimes, think he was right. And it was all thanks to him her eyes were shining the way they were, because as though romantic passion often fades over the years, they had managed to keep theirs alive, for over twenty years. It was the constant change, the occasional heated arguments and the dare to try new things that kept the flame burning. She shook her head with a small smile, not able to believe she'd been married to Jethro for over twenty-five years. She was almost amazed at how quick the time had moved.

Clutching the warm cup in her hand, she rose gingerly from the chair, placed a hand to her back as she cursed silently to herself about her bad back. Releasing another sigh, Jen realized that through the silence of the kitchen she heard a distant voice, a voice she knew all too well, a voice she loved to hear.

She pushed through the kitchen door, the voice grew stronger, and she could make out the words now, smiled to herself as she without much effort could place the words in her granddaughter's favorite fairy-tale. Oh, how many times hadn't she been reading that to the girl!

Jen leaned against the door frame to her study, her gaze drifting from the small snowflakes tapping at the window – bright white against the dark glass, to the fire burning calmly in the corner, casting its warm light over the neatly furnished room, then she settled her emerald eyes on the old man in the armchair, a little girl of four years sitting in his lap, one small hand gripping at his shirt collar, the glow of the fire reflecting in her blue eyes that were just like those of her father, eyes that were dangerously close to drifting shut. Jen watched amused how the little girl was fighting against the intoxicating threads of sleep that started to grasp at her sleepy mind.

Jen shifted her attention to the man, her husband. He too had aged well, and while his hair was still just as gray, though slightly longer, his face more lined and with more and deeper creases around his eyes, it was just the eyes that she was always drawn to. The icy blue had shifted into a more sapphire blue, still as intense, still with that little bit of darkness hiding in their depth, she'd noticed the difference in them from the day their children were born, and the days their grandchildren were born. They were sparkling; they were kind, smiling and reflecting his happiness and contentment. She placed a thin, fragile hand over her heart, it meant more than what words could describe that she had been the one to make sure that look stayed permanent in his bright blue eyes.

His voice had silenced, the fire's low cracking and the soft tapping of snow on glass took over in the study. She watched him softly caress his granddaughter's auburn hair, realizing a sigh of contentment before lowering his head and placing the lightest of kisses to her head. Then, his wife's name tumbled in a silent whisper over his lips, though she knew he hadn't looked at her once, it didn't surprise her he knew she was there, after more than twenty-five years together she knew it was impossible for her to sneak up on him, as he always seemed to sense her presence.

She suddenly found herself staring into his eyes, her small smile growing wider as she advanced further into the room.

She said nothing as she, with a light grimace, sat down on the arm of the chair. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it sympathetically, knowing of her back problems and the pain she often felt. He dealt with pain daily too, his cane leaned against the desk as his knees were getting weaker and walking was slowly but surely becoming a challenge. She linked her fingers further through his, meeting his face in a smile.

Jen reached out her hand to caress the sleeping little girl's hair, feeling its silky softness under her fingertips. As she attempted to pull it back, her husband grabbed hold of it, bringing it up to his lips to lovingly kiss her knuckles.

As she bent over slightly, the wafting scent of her perfume went up his nostrils, a scent that even after all these years still had a remarkable effect on him, though these days, instead of turning him on, it enveloped him in a comfortable sense of peace – very similar to the effect his soothing blend of sawdust, bourbon and coffee still had on her.

He softly kissed her cheek as she leaned down to read the last line in the book resting in his lap. Her smooth, hushed voice carried through the sleepy room. He was unable to wipe the smile off his face, and the lonely tear that glistened in the corner of his eye, listening to her, and knew it was true.

"And they lived happily ever after."

**The End**


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